


Cabin Pressure Fandot Creativity Night Fics

by stopsaying19



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fandot Creativity, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:58:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopsaying19/pseuds/stopsaying19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My little fics for the Cabin Pressure Fandot Creativity Nights - decided to move to here as not to annoy my tumblr followers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's a good thing?

It was an ordinary day in Parkside Terrace, or at least as ordinary as days could be in a household that consisted of 4 students and a pilot in the attic.

Or, at least it was, until the water started leaking out from under the kitchen doorway. All engrossed in their individual tasks (varying from a report on tigers to a particularly exciting session of Microsoft Flight Simulator) this only became a problem when Lewis started screaming that his socks were wet. 

Martin, resisting the natural instinct to don his cap before running down the stairs, was the first to arrive on the scene. The rather sad scene of a grown man whining in the hallway. 

“Dinnae open the door! It’ll get oot!” 

Even for Lewis, that was a ridiculous comment. Martin, as the oldest in the house, took the executive decision to ignore this advice. As he had thought, there was not in fact a tidal wave lurking behind the door. Something Lewis seemed suspiciously disappointed by. 

One of the best parts of having Martin around the house was that he actually knew how to fix things, which avoided a lot of negotiation with the landlord about repairs (none of which were ever their fault, of course.)

This seemed to be beyond him, however. The floor was covered in soap suds from the washing machine.

Lewis approached from behind, and looked over Martin’s shoulder. Both of them tentatively stepped into the kitchen. 

“Weel. It’s a guid thing.”  
“Lewis, how exactly is this a ‘good thing’?”  
“For starters, it died doing what it loved, and for the second thing…”

Lewis hurled a bunch of soap suds in Martin’s direction as he turned to look.

“SOAP FIIIIIIGHT!” Lewis roared with glee. Martin was distinctly less pleased. It was only pride that drew him to retaliate. Only pride. He was a mature airline captain, of course.


	2. Missed Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote one that *doesn't* have the students in it. wow.

If Martin were to have a list of favourite airports (which he actually did have) Amsterdam Schiphol would be fairly near the top. Theoretically speaking, you could waste hours in there, just watching planes. 

His Swiss Air colleagues were more focused on the number of bars in the area, considering that they wouldn’t be connecting back to Zurich tonight. The delays had built up and built up, and now they were outside duty hours. 

Once his Captain sorted out the hotel arrangements, they would be on their way. As he walked in the vague direction of the Swiss Air desk, he overheard what sounded like a boy and his father arguing about the duty free.

Although, it sounded like a strangely familiar argument. An argument about Toblerone. He stopped in his tracks for a second, and someone walked straight into him.

“Oh, I, Marissa, I mean, I’m sorry, I was just, I didn’t look, I mean I did look but not in the right direction-“

“Shut up and get going, First Officer Crieff.” She grinned. 

As she stepped away down the corridor, heels clicking, he knew he was expected to follow. Or she would manhandle him physically to the meeting point. After all, it was her job to push around uncooperative people, although this was not an emergency evacuation.

Just as she came back to grab him, he turned his head and could have sworn he saw a flash of red uniform and a grey-haired pilot. No. It had to be a coincidence. That was what he told himself all evening, anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

When Carolyn was a younger woman - _she is not an old woman, she is not_ \- being trapped in Japan would have been living the dream. No responsibilities, enough sake to sink the aircraft, and a free hotel stay. Air hostessing used to be glamorous. 

Nowadays, it was a struggle merely to keep her business afloat. And yes, that could make her bloody minded, make her obstinate, make her downright cantankerous. But she did it for her son. It made him happy, and Lord knew she wanted to give him a bit of happiness after the divorce.

But she’d failed in that, as well, now. Her only pilot had left her stranded in Tokyo, of all places. She didn’t speak Japanese, and if it was Britain she would just pull herself together and work several jobs. Sell the plane. Pay the debts back. Give Arthur at least some form of inheritance.

Speaking of Arthur, she should go and explain the issue to him. She sat him down, and he still looked so happy. She took a deep breath.

“Arthur, Jack is not coming back.”  
“Oh. But...so we’ll just get a new one and go home and keep flying GERTI!”  
“It’s not quite that simple, dear heart.”  
“It might be.”  
“It isn’t.”  
“But, no, really, it might be.”  
“Arthur…”  
“I’m serious, mum! Look behind you!”  
“Arthur Shappey, we are not playing those games. This is serious!”  
“I’m 100% serious, cross my heart and hope to die, terrapins tickle me if I lie!”

Something about her son’s demeanour - whether it was his inability to lie, or his earnest facial expression, made her turn around.

She was not a religious woman, but some force had sent her an Air England pilot, tieless and suffering from the heat.

“I hear you are in need of a pilot?”

She had no choice but to say yes - but she made a point of sitting in the flight deck all the way home. In the Captain’s seat, naturally.

All she could do was hope this Douglas Richardson was not an elaborate practical joke the universe had sought to play on Carolyn Knapp-Shappey.


	4. Before

Before Gurpreet came to England, if you’d told him he’d be friends with a pilot living in his attic he would have laughed you down the street. (He also wouldn’t have been good enough at English idioms to say that.)   
  
Before Marisol came to England, if you’d told her she would end up flirting with a First Officer to embarrass an airline captain…she wouldn’t actually have been surprised by that at all.   
  
Before Lewis came to England, if you’d told him he would actually not hate a massively touchy wee man who cared far too much about his hat, he’d have found that bloody impossible.   
  
Before Katie came to the flat (having been the only student who actually lived in England) if you told her she’d come home and find two of her flatmates talking about whether _he actually seriously cooked a koi carp_ , that would have been too much like the stereotypical student comedy.   
  
  
Before Martin finally moved to Switzerland, he never envisaged it being difficult to say goodbye to the attic.


	5. Full Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a kind of crossover with Being Human - if you haven't seen it, Nina and George are werewolves. Basically that is the whole knowledge of this that you need. (I could lengthen this into a fic but I probably won't because I don't know where I am going with it.)

It had been a long shift for Nurse Nina Pickering - and now the consultant was calling her over into resus.  
The paramedics were wheeling in her patient as she passed through the doors.  
  
“Martin Crieff, early 30s, found on an airfield with an unexplained gash injury, GCS 14 on arrival.”  
  
The aforementioned consultant was ordering her around, as usual.  
“Crossmatch 5 units of O Neg - Mr Richardson, can you wait outside please?”  
  
George ended up having to physically remove Mr Richardson - all in all, a normal day in the emergency department.  
  
Until she saw the nature of the ‘unexplained gash injury.’ Aw man. Not today. Not on a full moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I think Nina worked on the wards, not A and E. BUT CREATIVE LICENSE.


	6. Verily the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandot creativity, 26/12/15 - "Christmas Carols"

It was December, and it was freezing in the portakabin. The heating was on the blink yet again. Carolyn would have dispatched one of her pet pilots to track down someone from the maintenance crew to have a look at it, but Douglas was trying to get the device barely fit to be called a computer to function. Martin was doing some kind of supposedly vital activity relating to GERTI - she wasn’t sure what it was, but the man was going to go on one of his lectures about rules and regulations if she questioned him.

What with Arthur seeming to attempt the world record for ‘number of pairs of mittens worn simultaneously’ and giving a running commentary on it, she had more than enough gibberish to be getting on with. At least Douglas appeared to have some success with the computer - or could at least use the keyboard. She fastened up her jacket and stepped out into the cold air.

When she returned with a promise from Maintenance to come over in the next hour on pain of death, she found a concerningly cheery pilot singing ‘Ding Dong Merrily On High’ combined with a normally cheery son tunelessly contributing.

“Douglas!” Arthur placed his mittened hands on his hips, in a frankly misguided attempt to look as if he possessed a modicum of authority. “You told me it was _excelsis_ four Christmases ago!”

“In this case, Arthur - and only in this one case - I do in fact mean Hosanna in Excel Sheets.”

Carolyn rounded the corner at a surprisingly rapid speed for someone who had just come in from trudging across a snowy airfield, to find that her idiot pilot had indeed spent the last 15 minutes copying and pasting the word “Hosanna” into a spreadsheet.

****

“Martin?”  
“Hm - yes, Arthur?”  
Martin climbed out of the avionics bay, holding onto his hat.  
“Douglas told me to tell you to ‘expect a Category 5 blizzard’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this, which is *everywhere* on Twitter http://imgur.com/jj7gqP5


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I googled this jumper when I got the idea :P http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41FLaT2GkLL.jpg

“Herc!”

 

There was no answer from the flight deck - so Douglas borrowed a portable radio from a nearby member of maintenance. And by ‘borrowed’, that meant ‘stole from his belt when he wasn’t looking.’

 

“Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, Silver Fox, over.”

 

“Silver Fox, Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, identify, over?”

 

“Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, Silver Fox, I fly alongside you and you know what I sound like, over.”

 

“Silver Fox, Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, Douglas I refuse to call you by that call sign. Come inside if it’s important, over.”

 

“Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, Silver Fox, why is there a jumper in the engine inlet? Over.”

 

“Douglas, Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, take it out and you’ll see where I’m coming from, over.”

 

He handed the unlucky maintenance man back his radio, and commandeered a set of steps to investigate the situation. 

 

He was less than surprised when he found himself holding an oil-soaked jumper reading ‘Baa Humbug’ across the front. Recovering the radio, he called up to the flight deck again.

 

“Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, Silver Fox, the engine inlet isn’t for disposing of things that cause you _existential fear_.”  


“ _Martin Crieff_ , Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, stop fussing over the rules and get back on the bloody plane.”  
  


Douglas was  _not_ becoming Martin Crieff, and he did sulk (although he would never call it that) until he won the Camembert off of Herc.


End file.
